Cutting Room Floor
by Bookworm1986
Summary: Missing scenes with Brody and Carrie, individually, with others and each other. Starting with Season 1. Caution for swearing. T to begin with. May change later.
1. AlieNation

Disclaimer - I do not own Homeland. That pleasure belongs to Showtime. No copyright infringement or money making scheme intended. This is purely for reading enjoyment.

A/N I said when I finished "I have to say" that I wasn't done with Brody and I'm not. He's back! And Carrie's with him too. Missing scenes with them individually, them with others...and together! Probable that I will have more than one chapter for each episode. This first one is Brody in the Pilot.

Please let me know what you think. Please review.

* * *

The cold air hit him hard in his face and forced him to breath sharply as it entered his lungs. He felt it chill his very bones as it penetrated his clothes. It was early and quiet, but even if it hadn't been he doubted anyone would question what he was doing, not when they realised who he was. After all, why shouldn't the American hero gaze upon the White House?

He hadn't been able to sleep, had decided a run would help. He'd been wrong. The events of the past few days had decided to join him. The lies, oh yes, the lies, breeding already.

"Were you there?", Helen Walker asked him about Tom's death.

"No", he had answered. So easily. Much too easily the lie crossed his lips.

His eyes darted up and down the full length of the White House. He observed it as he had done mostly everything since he had returned home, from a distance, robotically and mechanically. Doing what was expected of him.

He may as well have been a tourist seeing it for the first time. It felt strange to him, as if he had only ever seen it in pictures before which was never quite the same. Except that he wasn't staring in admiration and wonder, but disgust and anger.

_"It will be difficult Nicholas. You will have to familiarise yourself with your old life without allowing it to distract you, to stir your emotions. _

_"I can do it."_

_Nazir observed him for several minutes before nodding his head in approval._

_"We have much to prepare", Nazir spoke, getting up from his seat and leaving the room._

Nazir had known he would follow and so he had. Nazir had not doubted his sincerity, but his ability to remain detached. Perhaps he had been right. The nausia had struck on the plane as though the sheer scale of what he was returning to do had only just occurred to him. Combined, with the reality of meeting his family again, the nausea hit like a tidal wave.

It had been awkward. Chris hadn't known what to do, had looked to him. He'd been just as clueless and reverted to what he knew well, the robotic comfort drilled into every soldier, with his son. He had even been unsure with Jess. But Dana, now she was a different story. He hugged his little girl for the first time in 8 years and it made sense to him. She radiated warmth. There was nothing hidden or unsure in her welcome.

The warmth had evaporated quickly. Not even 5 minutes alone with his family and he was meeting him...HIM. He contained his anger and masked it behind the good soldier act. In even less time he found himself in front of the cameras as Walden played "I can't hear you" with trained Marines like they were a bunch of 5 year olds at a Pantomime. Suddenly, overwhelmed and anxious, his fingers had moved like lightning, back and forth searching for the familiarity, comfort and calm that his prayer beads offered. Then, it was his turn to speak. He composed himself and told them what they wanted to hear.

Arriving back in their Street, his Street, he had hoped for some peace. Alas, a soldier's duty is never done. He could not fathom the stupidity of people lining the streets to hail him a hero. They knew nothing of his life for the past 8 years. "He stands here alive, so lets have a fucking parade". Had it always been the case that people were so utterly desperate and idiotic?

"_They will hero worship you, Nicholas."_

_"Why? I haven't done anything."_

_"Perhaps not yet. When you return all you will have to do is wear that uniform and smile. That will be will be seen as a symbol of American strength, of defiance and courage. That is how those in power will want you to be seen."_

_"And people will believe that?"_

_"Most of them. You will find Nicholas, from your new view of the world, that most people believe what they need to in order to live their lives as easily as possible."_

"_I don't remember it being like that before."_

_"It has always been like that, Nicholas. It's just that before you were one of those people, but now your eyes have been opened."_

Nazir had been right. He had worn the uniform, had smiled and that had been enough...for most people. Not for her though, that CIA lady intent on busting his balls at the debriefing_. _She was most definitely not stupid. He'd have to hope not to run into her again.

He may as well be a foreigner in a foreign land. Perhaps he was now. Looking at the White House, it seemed to him that it had not changed a bit in 8 years, but Nazir had prepared him for that.

_Beware, Nicholas, that which seems the same, familiar and comforting, for it is but a lie. It always has been. Now that you see what others cannot, this is the truth you shall know." _

With one last contemptuous look at the White House, he continued on his run.

* * *

Further A/N I absolutely loved the shock factor of having Brody stand in front of the White House the way they did and the implications they were making, which is why I chose it to start this fic off.


	2. Ostinato

Disclaimer - I do not own Homeland. That pleasure belongs to Showtime. No copyright infringement or money making scheme intended. This is purely for reading enjoyment.

Terzima- Thank you as ever. It is a wonderful visual to finish the Pilot. I hope it will be captivating.

Lipamo - Thank you for the review. I hope to keep you curious. Without giving too much away...he's definitely confused and doesn't know how to deal with everything.

A/N Thank you to LilMisfit for your feedback and for pointing out that Brody is not standing staring at the White House but rather the Capitol Building. Apologies to any American readers for this mistake!

Chapter 2. Carrie from the Pilot. Please let me know what you think. Please review.

* * *

Sitting herself down on her sofa in front of the monitors, with a glass of wine for comfort, Carrie allowed herself a sigh of relief. It wouldn't do to relax completely, however. Now she had to come up with something to prove she was right. Nonetheless she felt some of the anxiety leave her in peace for the time being.

It was maddening though, seeing what others couldn't. Why didn't they see it? Eight years and they didn't think that was a problem? But of course, fucking Estes was more concerned about keeping Walden happy, to the extent everyone seemed happy to tip toe round the questions that really needed answering. Carrie was sure Sergeant Brody was lying about not having met Nazir. Her ass, he hadn't.

* * *

"Good night, dad!"

Carrie focussed on the monitor and watched the girl give her father a hug before going off to her own room. A look of terror briefly passed over his face as he realised it was time for bed. Carrie wasn't surprised after what had happened the first night back. Whatever reason he may be back for, he was clearly afraid of hurting his wife. He got into the bed, but was lying so close to the edge of it, he'd have been as well on the floor.

Carrie sighed. She couldn't allow herself to be blindsided by sympathy. She had a job to do. Seeing they were in bed, she lay down, putting her jazz music on to listen to. Thank goodness for Jazz. Soothing, comforting and relaxing. Allowing her to calm herself, to focus and see what everyone else missed...that was normally. Now it was providing her with answers as well. Repetition, repetition, repetition. Warm and peaceful, she drifted of to sleep.

* * *

Bang, Bang, BANG!

Carrie jerked awake, suddenly, disorientated at the noise. Sitting up on the sofa, rubbing her eyes trying to rub the sleep out of them and blinking to adjust to the morning light, she realised the noise was coming from the monitors or to be more precise, the Brody house. It was also loud enough for her to have heard over the Jazz that had lulled her to sleep in the first place.

Apparently Mrs Brody wasn't in a good mood judging by the way she was banging doors. Carrie reached for her note pad ready to note down anything as she hears the wife talking.

"Where's your father?"

"Went for a run", the boy answers his mother, not taking his eyes off of the TV.

"Went for a run? It's early!"

The boy just shrugs his shoulders.

So he was away for a run was he? It was quite early. Perhaps he couldn't sleep. He had seemed terrified at the prospect of getting into bed. She'd slept easier than she would have if it hadn't been for noticing what he was doing with his hands and bringing it to Saul's attention. It wasn't much, but it was something. No one else might take it seriously, but if there was a message, she'd find it. She made herself comfortable. This was how it was going to be now: wait, watch and learn; wait, watch and learn.


	3. Boxed in

Disclaimer - I do not own Homeland. That pleasure belongs to Showtime. No copyright infringement or money making scheme intended. This is purely for reading enjoyment.

A/N Brody episode 2 "Grace". My take on what Brody is thinking for those 5 hours he's sitting in the corner of his room. In line with Brody being so traumtaised not everything he thinks will apparently make sense. The lines blur, if you see what I mean. Hopefully it comes across.

Please let me know what you think. Please review.

* * *

"Always make sure you have a way out. Never allow yourself to be trapped. Never let yourself be backed into a corner. Never allow yourself to be boxed in!"

"Why not?" Brody asked the nameless, faceless blurry man standing in front of him. He heard the words but they made no sense to him. The noise of the enemy. The enemy so many. He but one man, alone. Overwhelming, afraid. He slid down the wall past something. What are they? They're just blurs to him too. Incomprehnsible, unfamiliar. As low as he can go, as close to the wall as he can be. Hugging it, taking comfort from his best friend. The darkest, quietest corner of the room.

Noise, so much noise. He can hear them. They're close by. But they won't get to him here. No! They won't even see him. He's made himself small. He's safe. He just has to stay quiet. That horrible ringing noise. He's not fooled. They're trying to trick him, to make him think they're friends. He won't answer, he won't. It's getting louder and it won't stop. It's painful now. But he won't answer. No, No.

_"NO, I WON'T", throat raw, the words leave his mouth in a scream. He hears his own words as though far away from them. Apart from himself, disembodied, floating._

_"You, won't?", growls the quiet but dangerous voice of a man shrowded in darkness. _

_"Your foolish bravery and loyalty will not stave off the pain I will reek upon you", the man spoke ever so slowly, emphasising his words. Brody saw the intent in his eyes. Evil, pure evil, eyes livid. He saw the bat swinging towards his face, defenceless and powerless to stop it. SMASH. _

He feels himself raise his arms in defence of the swing, pushes himself back to the wall for safety, bangs his head. Vision blurry, he readjusts his eyes, blinking. Sighing, with relief. He's still safely in the corner, out of the way. He must have dozed off. No! He can't do that. He can still hear them. He must stay alert. He tries to relax himself, take deep breaths. The sudden banging noise reverberates through his bones, to his nerve endings, making his every muscle tense. He's rigid. Eyes closed. If I can't seem them, they won't see me. But ears perked for a clue as to where they are. They're trying to get sneaky again. But he won't move.

"Sergeant Brody!", he hears his name accompanied by more banging.

No! Don't answer. Stay low and quiet. Safe in the corner. The noise is getting louder, closer. Suddenly it stops. He lets out the anxious breath he had been holding in and opens his eyes. Fear courses through him in waves. NO! It can't be!

_They grabbed him by the arms and dragged him from his safe place. Smiling, maliciously one of them said, "you think we can't see you hiding in the corner like a pathetic little child. We will make you cry for your mother like a child too."_

* * *

_Pain, unimaginable pain. His entire body was on fire. Blurry figures moved in front of him. _

_"Water. Take some water", the blurry figure said to him._

_Was it real? He couldn't tell. He didn't care. "Mom?"_

"_No. Take some water", the blurry figure repeated._

_"Dad?"_

_The blurry figure smiled at him. __Brody smiled too. Safe, he was safe. He took some water. _

_"He's ready", he heard his father say as he reached and pulled Brody to his chest. Brody welcomed the comfort. "Dad", he sighed in relief._

"Dad? Dad?", Brody heard the voice of a young boy.

Brody's eyes opened wide, darted from side to side taking in the darkness engulfing him. Trick, this was another trick. It had to be. This wasn't Issa's house. Issa wasn't here.

"DAD?"

Brody wished to disappear into the wall. He put his hands to his ears, hoping to drown the voice out. Issa was dead, dead, DEAD! A horrible trick, but just the sort of thing they'd try. Hadn't his father warned him about this sort of thing. They'll do and say anything to get away with what they've done...what they've done. They killed Issa! Focus, he'd have to focus. He couldn't let them get him. He drew himself up a bit, but stayed in the corner, watching and waiting. He wouldn't let them get him. He couldn't let father down.


	4. Reality TV

Disclaimer - I do not own Homeland. That pleasure belongs to Showtime. No copyright infringement or money making scheme intended. This is purely for reading enjoyment.

Terzima - It was hard to writ to a certain extent. I'm glad you liked it. Thank you.

LilMisfit - It seemed the obvious choice for me to a missing scene about. Brody's state of mind is important. Thank you.

A/N Missing scene from 'Clean Skin'. Brody does an interview while walking in what appears to be a park. This taks place afterwards. This is a short one but more on the way.

* * *

"They want you to lose faith. They tell you you're country is the devil".

"They want you to lose faith in your Brother Marines. They tell you they aren't coming for you because you have no Military value."

"They tell you that your wife has her arm wrapped around someone else."

He shouldn't have agreed to the interview. He really just shouldn't have. Now he was worked up. He heard his answers to the questions swirling round his mind on repeat. All that crap about not losing faith that people would believe. They'd believe he was a hero who kept fighting, who didn't lose his faith.

"They want you to lose faith. They tell you you're country is the devil".

He had lost faith and he wasn't sure what to think about his country. He'd seen what they had done. He had watched Walden's press conference where he said those images of dead children were proaganda. He had seen the devestation and the grief. He had shared it. Walden had ruined so many lives. A rage like he'd never known had washed over him, leavng him with a burning desire to do something. To find that horrible fuck and make him pay.

His fingers were dancing of their own accord now and he could hear his own breathing, as he fought for control. He was after all still standing in the middle of the park with a camera crew near by. It wouldn't do to have a panic attack or become angry and hurt someone.

"They want you to lose faith in your Brother Marines. They tell you they aren't coming for you because you have no Military value."

They fucking weren't coming for him. It hadn't taken him long to lose faith in that idiotic fantasy. He had no value, not to his own people anyway. A piece of meat. Expendable and easily replaceable. In the end Nazir had dropped some bread crumbs as part of his plan. The CIA were all feeling so proud for rescuing him when in truth they had been played like a violin.

"They tell you, your wife has her arm wrapped around someone else."

He snorted bitterly - wasn't that the truth...and there he was, his best friend, standing chatting with the camera crew, laughing. Probably having a normal chat about normal stupid everyday shite. He wasn't stupid. He had seen the way Mike and Jess looked at each other. Glances of longing. He was in the way in his own home and family. Go on TV and tell everyone about not giving in and how good it was to be home. It's all lies.


	5. Let the games begin

Disclaimer - I do not own Homeland. That pleasure belongs to Showtime. No copyright infringement or money making scheme intended. This is purely for reading enjoyment.

lipamo - thank you for the reviews, fav and follow. Much appreciated. I miss the greatness of S1 as well.

A/N Missing scene. End of Episode 4, "Semper I". This takes place after Carrie and Brody in the rain. Beginning next morning.

* * *

Jess leans on the door frame watching him cook breakfast. He seems more relaxed and less anxious. She didn't really want to interrupt in case she was dreaming.

"You going to come in or just stand there admiring the view?", Brody asks.

He waits for her to come into the kitchen, clearly taken by surprise at his playful manner or perhaps by the fact he knew she was there. He'd sensed her eyes on him. Maybe he over did the playfulness, but she's going to have questions about the support group. Questions he woud have no truthful answers to.

* * *

"Thank you."

"For what?", Jess asks confused.

"For asking me to get help."

Brody went back to making breakfast without elaborating further.

Jess studies him further. Now he was whistling.

"So. How did the support group go?", she asks unable to wait any longer.

There it was. Brody smiles before turning around.

Passing Jess a plate with scrambed eggs on it Brody answers, "alright. I didn't really have to say much. They go easy on you first meeting. But just seeing others there helped."

Jess wanted to pinch herself. The difference in his demeanor from the past few days was surreal.

"So you'll go back?"

"Morning", Chris mumbles coming into the kitchen.

The interruption of replying provides Brody the chance to compose himself.

Looking at Jess he answers, "yes. I'l go back."

"Go back where?", Chris asks looking between the two of them.

"Support group."

"Oh", Chris replies, head down, refusing to meet his father's eyes, as Jess smiles.

"Hurry up with breakfast so I can get you to School!", Jess says to Chris.

"See you later", she says giving Brody a kiss on the cheek.

Brody smiles, nodding his head.

"Daannaa. Hurry up!", he hears Jess shout as she leaves the kitchen.

* * *

Brody enjoys the soothing effect of the hot water from the shower cascading down over him, heating and relaxing simultaneously. He'd had a horrible couple of days or perhaps he'd been horrible for a couple of days would be more accurate. He'd been like a caged animal, out of control.

He'd been given a kick the night before. It had focused his ever wandering mind, slapped down the petty vindictive thoughts that had been swimming around in his head and temporarily killed the nervousness and anxiety that were plaguing him. Oh yeah, Carrie Mathison had given in a wake up call. She wasn't buying his answers at Langley anymore than he was buying her being at that support group was an accident.

She was dangerous and yet he felt something stir within him that just wasn't there with Jess, someone who knew.

* * *

"Brody, you awake? Brody?", Jess asks with hope.

He ignores her, keeps his eyes shut as tight as possible and eventually hears her lie down. He just couldn't stomach another attempt, his skin crawled at the thought. He was sleeping on the floor again. Partly so he wouldn't hurt Jess and because he just wasn't comfortable. He knew it hurt her but there was nothing he could do about it. He felt nothing for her in that sense anymore and he saw her flinch whenever she caught sight of one of his scars. He wasn't the man she wanted home. This brought its own frustrations as it is not how it should be. But then nothing was as it should be.

He was fed up being poster boy for all he PR bollocks and fed up with all the fucking dancing around Jess and Mike. It aggrevated him and made him want to lash out. Everybody knew and no one fucking told him. Well, to be fair to Dana, she had tried. He'd already realised by then anyway, but at least she'd tried.

He had no conrol over most of what was going on and he didn't like it. But it seemed the more he tried to control his life, the more he fucked up. He wanted something to hold onto, something to make him feel something other than frustration and anger and Carrie Mathison had done just that.

On the one hand, it was a bad idea to even think about trying to see her and on the other, he could use it to find out what she knows.

He felt the pull though, like a moth to a flame. All he had to do was find a way to see her again.


	6. Fine Lines

Disclaimer - I do not own Homeland. That pleasure belongs to Showtime. No copyright infringement or money making scheme intended. This is purely for reading enjoyment.

Lipamo, Terzima and LilMisfit - thank you so much. I'm glad that you are liking it. Also glad to have people to share it with. Love C & B as well.

Terzima - here you go, Carrie's next morning.

A/N Missing scene from end of Semper I. Because Carrie was smiling in the rain. Takes place next morning/night.

* * *

**Morning**

"Pass the syrup, Carrie."

"Huh, what?"

"Never mind. I'll get it myself", Maggie replies exasperated.

Carrie looks up to find Maggie staring at her curioulsy as though trying to work out a puzzle. She feels a little uneasy.

"What?", she asks defensively.

"There's a twinkle in your eyes. I'm just trying to decide if I should get excited and ask what his name is or not bother because it is something to do with work."

Carrie splutters her juice over the table.

"What his whose name is?", Frank asks, walking into the kitchen.

Carrie groans.

"He who may or may not have put a twinkle in Carrie's eye", Maggie replies.

"Boyfriend?" Frank questions with a grin.

"No!", Carrie answers emphatically. "No boyfriend. I've made inroads with a suspect, that's all."

"Ugh", Maggie snorts in disgust. "Just when there was hope, she taketh it away. Now, I'm going to work."

Carrie watches Maggie leave feeling distinctly rattled. At least she put her off. She looks up to find her dad staring at her intently.

"What is it this time?", she asks.

"So, you have a suspect do you?"

"Yes", Carrie replies relieved to be back on the subject of work."

"Hmm. Do all suspects make you glow, then?", Frank asks with a twinkle of his own.

"Maggie's got it wrong dad", Carrie replies as convincingly as she could muster.

"Ye. She has, hasn't she", Frank agrees.

Carrie smiles, thankful this interogation is over.

"For a start she didn't push nearly enough. You CIA folk aren't the only ones with secrets. Dads have them too and among them is knowing what is going on with your children and leaving them wondering how you know. So, whenever you feel like sharing his name, I'll be glad to hear all about it", Frank finishes, turning his attention to the crossword in his paper.

Carrie stares at her dad. She could ask him how he knows, but that would mean admitting it and she can't do that.

* * *

**Night time**

She stepped out of the shower, drying herself. The shower was supposed to help, to calm and soothe her. No chance, particularly not as the image of him doing the same seems to be invading her mind. She was glowing was she? She was pretty sure she'd smiled in the rain last night too. This was an extremely irritating development. She was not, could not be interested in him. She pulled on her pyjamas, whilst the rebelious part of her wasn't giving up without a fight. She was absolutely interested. It had been a risk to make contact with him, but she had been desperate. She'd gotten used to his daily routine and was not happy at being cut off from it. That in itself screamed of reasons to keep away from him, but then she always had to do what she wasn't supposed to and he would without a doubt fall into the don't do category.

There was no point worrying about what she had done. Now she had to find a way to weave herself into his life. She smiles once again as she climbs into bed.


End file.
